Quirks
by Aoife-hime
Summary: Everybody has an odd personality quirk or two. Balthier's just happens to be a little stranger than most. This chronicles each party member's discovery of said 'quirk'.
1. Part I: Fran

A/N: So... pomegranates. Let's just say there's a picture out there of Balthier eating fruit sexily in nothing but an open shirt and a speedo and such a dangerous image was enough to provoke a crack fic out of me and leave it at that. With that said, enjoy the insanity!

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**Quirks**

_I. Fran_

It took a lot for Fran to become irritated, at least according to hume standards. In all her years of pirating, she'd been in situations that had caused even the ever-suave Balthier Bunansa to crack and reveal his latent inner petulant child while she had remained as cool as ever. Certain things, however, set her off quite easily, especially things that assaulted one or more of her overly sensitive senses. The twelve oversized barrels of high grade stink sap she and Balthier had pilfered off a specialty store in Rabanastre the previous week, for example, were more than enough to raise the viera's ire.

According to the merchant from whom they'd pilfered the infernal stuff, it was quite good for preserving food in the middle of the hot desert summer. The merchant had also been foolish enough to allude to the fact, albeit indirectly, that it fetched extremely high prices on the black market. Balthier's interest had been piqued immediately, and Fran was ashamed to admit she too had been rather enthusiastic during the initial phases of the heist. Once one of the barrels cracked in transit in the _Strahl_'s hull, however, her enthusiasm had promptly keeled over stone dead. For Fran, the way the smell of the stuff went straight to her head and left her nauseated and seeing double for a week afterwards made the repulsive product not in any way worth the price it fetched them (though Balthier was quick to point out that it had certainly fetched a pretty gil). She'd forced her insufferable partner to clean out the toilets after that venture as penance. And after how closely acquainted she'd become with the _Strahl_'s toilets that week, the job had certainly been nothing short of daunting. Still, she felt she'd been letting him off easy, as the boy still wore that self-assured grin of his as he finished swabbing the last of the toilets. His embroidered white shirt didn't even have a speck of grime on it, either, and Fran continued to fume in the subtle, slow-burning viera way. One day, the boy would get his comeuppance.

'One day' didn't seem nearly fast enough in coming, however. Three weeks had passed since the initial transport of the stink sap, and Fran still felt a bit of psychologically-induced nausea whenever she passed the toilet, while Balthier went on with his life as usual. Grumbling internally, Fran felt her stomach somersault unpleasantly yet again as she marched quickly passed the toilet to her bunk. What she needed now was a pomegranate; the refreshing fruit of which she was always sure to keep a supply had never failed to settle her stomach in the past and she hoped today wouldn't be any different.

Two weeks ago they had picked up a supply of twenty-one of the delicious specimens, and having eaten one a day since then left Fran with seven pomegranates to spare before they restocked. At least, that was what her math told her to be true. The problem was, she realized as she stood in front of the fruit bowl she kept in her room, she only had four of the blessed things left. She did the math once again, utilizing her fingers this time just in case she had mistaken things in her head, but again she came up with the same result: there was a three fruit difference between her theoretical count and the actual count. Fran frowned slightly, running her long nails lightly over the skin of one of the few remaining pomegranates. It shouldn't put her out nearly as much as it did, but in her defense they were_her_ fruits and Fran, ironic though it was given her chosen profession, never liked having her possessions go missing.

A huff of an irritated sigh passed through her lips. Perhaps Balthier would be able to shed some light on her current predicament.

Fran exited her bunk and marched down another corridor of the _Strahl_, her shoes sending echoes bouncing purposefully off its metallic walls. Balthier was certain to know she was coming with all the noise she was making, she mused, and as such didn't bother to announce her presence when she arrived at his cabin's door. She knocked once before proceeding inside.

"Balthier, do you happen to…" Fran began as she entered her partner in crime's personal room, only to find the words dying on her lips. As her confusion over the display in front of her increased, she was grateful at least for the knowledge of what had happened to her missing pomegranates.

"Ah, good morning, Fran," Balthier greeted from his leisurely position in his chair. While his voice was steady, Fran noticed he had gotten ever-so-slightly pink around the ears. One of her missing pomegranates dripped a lazy trail of red juice down his uncharacteristically exposed forearm. "I suppose you're here about your fruit… I'm dreadfully sorry I've been pinching it."

Fran shook her head ever so slightly, though whether it was to dismiss his apology or merely an attempt to clear some of the surprise from her mind she wasn't certain. The calm, detached portion of her brain grudgingly supposed this was not, by far, the worst idiosyncrasy a hume partner could display; she surmised that it was a very private habit of his, especially given that this was the first time she'd ever stumbled in upon him in such a state, and would therefore be easily avoidable in the future should she so choose. Satisfied with this to the greatest extent she supposed she could be, she turned to go then, thinking of ways to best protect her dwindling supply of pomegranates from her incorrigible, eternally surprising partner. But just as she was about to close the door and leave Balthier to his eating, Fran couldn't resist making one incredibly below-the-belt dig. It was so rare she saw him anywhere near flustered, after all – it would be a shame not to milk the current situation for all it was worth.

Giving her stark naked, fruit-eating partner a thorough, yet disinterested once-over, she concluded seriously, "I no longer believe you were able to seduce seven different women during our last stop in Balfonheim. I now wonder that you are able to seduce any."

The corner of Fran's mouth turned up ever so slightly in the viera approximation of a smirk as Balthier grew noticeably indignant and a rather deep shade of pink in the face. His mouth flapped uselessly as he searched for a retort. Fran left the room then, finally feeling as if she had her recompense for the stink sap incident. Her nose was possibly the only thing as sensitive as that boy's ego, after all.


	2. Part II: Basch

A/N: The insanity continues... enjoy!

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**Quirks**

_II. Basch_

He had lived in a state of almost complete solitary confinement for two years. Two very long, very lonesome years. But Basch fon Rosenburg had become adept at keeping his own company and try as the Empire did to break him during that time, they only were able to wear him down a bit around the edges.

Well, maybe more than 'a bit', but he didn't have to admit that to anyone.

The problem with living by one's self for such an extended period of time, Basch mused one night after dinner as he helped young Penelo clean up in the _Strahl_'s galley, was that (besides the incurrent high possibility of madness, of course) one got used to living alone after a time. So when one found oneself suddenly living and traveling in close quarters with not one, not two, but _five_ other people, it took a bit of adjusting. But Basch thought he was handling the transition as well as could be expected, what with the added pressure of protecting and restoring the only living member of the Dalmascan royal family to her rightful place on the throne thrown in the mix. He hadn't snapped even once, not even when Vaan childishly insisted on hiding his new axe right after he'd acquired it in a delayed fit of petulant vengeance for his brother's fate or when that damn sky pirate Balthier made not-so-subtly concealed snide remarks about the quality of his cooking.

"Thanks for helping me clean up, Basch," Penelo said then, tearing him from his brief reverie. He turned and smiled softly in her direction, giving her a nod. At times like this, he didn't exactly know what to say without sounding like an old, bumbling fool. It was only natural that, after two years of only having an old skeleton with which to converse while cooped up in his Archadian prison cell (the cage had been reserved for "special occasions" as one of his guards had once informed him quite derisively), his speaking skills had atrophied more than a little. Basch had just turned back to drying off the last of the dishes when he heard Penelo grumble unintelligibly – and uncharacteristically, for that matter – under her breath.

"Is there something the matter?"

"I could have sworn I put the last of the melons in this cabinet, but they're not there anymore," Penelo replied, confusion crinkling her expression. "I know we didn't finish them at dinner…"

"Perhaps Balthier or Fran moved them to an alternative storage location for safer keeping," suggested the knight errant rationally, peaking inside the cabinet in question and indeed finding it empty of the striped, green melons that had been there earlier. Seeing that his words did little to remove the look of confusion from the young woman's face, Basch felt moved to further ease her worries. That was the only explanation he could offer for what he said next. "If it would ease your mind, I will go find one of our captains and inquire as to the location of the missing fruits." At this, Penelo's face visibly brightened and a girlish squeal escaped her lips. Basch worried for a second that, in her what he considered irrationally overwhelming fit of joyful enthusiasm, she might attempt to hug him; he truly wasn't certain what he was supposed to do should that situation arise. Thankfully, however, she just saw him off down the hall with a wide smile and dish towel in hand. Basch breathed a sigh of relief and made a silent vow to work on becoming less socially awkward as the weeks wore on.

As he wandered down the main hallway of the Strahl, Basch silently hoped he would only have to deal with one sky pirate that night, and preferably not the one who always seemed to have a smart comment for every situation and an eye that wandered far too much for his own good. However, luck didn't seem to be with the knight that evening, as he found out upon encountering the stoic viera pirate walking towards the cockpit that she had no idea what had happened to the remaining supply of melons. Fran suggested he ask Balthier as to the whereabouts of the melons and that he would most likely find said sky pirate in the cockpit before turning on her heel and walking purposefully in the direction from which she'd originally come. Basch spared Fran a moment and a raised eyebrow before continuing towards the cockpit.

Basch's thoughts returned to Fran's unusual actions as his hand stilled on the handle to the cockpit door. Did she possibly know something he didn't? That was a safe bet, he scoffed. Though he'd only known her a short time, Basch figured the viera knew a great many more things than he, and with a shrug he went ahead, turned the two-way lock (why was the cockpit locked in the first place?), and opened the door.

It became immediately obvious what the sky pirate Fran knew that the knight errant Basch did not and also why the door had been locked in the first place, for ahead of him sat Balthier, shamelessly draped across his usual chair with half a melon in his hand and nothing but an open shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders.

Basch was willing to bet all the clothes on his back plus his new sword that Fran had known just what Balthier was up to when she'd talked to Basch in the hallway.

"Is there a reason you saw fit to barge into my cockpit unannounced, my good knight?" Balthier asked, taking a bite out of a melon half. The moonlight that filtered through the cockpit's windows illuminated the subsequent trail of juice dripping down the sky pirate's chin, but he made no move to wipe it away, nor did he move to cover up for his present company. And Basch, a man who had grown inordinately accustomed to privacy during his time spent in prison, felt the tips of his ears heat up as the mood between them grew more and more awkward.

"I see you are responsible for the displaced melons. Penelo will be pleased to know they have not simply vanished into thin air," Basch said, measuring his words so they would not all flow out in an uncomfortable rush. It wasn't that he'd never been in a room with other naked men – he was a soldier, for the love of the gods, and had spent more than his fair share of time living and showering in army barracks – but never before had he shared a space with someone so shameless and self-assured. It made him, who was naturally a modest hume, more than a little uncomfortable, and as such he had to strongly resist the urge to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot before making a rapid exit from the room.

Basch backed slowly towards the door, his eyes flickering from the numerous control panels, to the window, to Balthier's growing smirk – anywhere but… there. "Do you make a habit of this activity?" he asked the sky pirate as his fingers found the door handle.

Balthier's smirk was replaced momentarily by a thoughtful expression. "When the inclination comes upon me, so yes I suppose you would call this a habit of mine."

"I shall be certain to keep a closer watch on any fruit bought in the future, then," Basch resolved, feeling the latch give and the door swing open behind him. As he nearly tripped over himself exiting, Basch saw Balthier's insufferable grin return. He was doing this on purpose just to get a reaction, Basch realized, and in his embarrassed irritation he shouted before he slammed the door closed, "for the sake of the gods, man, put on some proper clothes!"

For a man forced to spend two years of his life in seclusion, Basch thought he handled that situation fairly well. Balthier still had an unbroken neck, after all. He mentally patted himself on the back for being able to take such an absurd eccentricity in stride before his mind turned to other matters. Firstly, he was going to have to think twice before sitting in any of the cockpit's seats from now on. Secondly, he was going to have to keep a sharper eye on any fruit he should happen to purchase in the future in order to keep it away from the sticky fingers of a certain sky pirate. And thirdly, and undoubtedly most importantly, there was no way that he would be letting the princess find out about this sky pirate's habit of eating his fruit without wearing any clothing in the same manner as he just had. He had sworn to protect her and, even if it was from the filthy and perverted habits of sky pirates, Basch was determined to uphold his vows.

Before he set about doing just that, however, he had a few things he wanted to say to a certain viera.


	3. Part III: Vaan

A/N: Hey guys. sheepish grin Sorry it's been so long. I wish I could give a great excuse, but really it's just the normal trials and tribulations of college that managed to sap both my time and inspiration these past few months. So, for your excessive patience, two chapters in this update! Enjoy :)

**Quirks**

_III. Vaan_

Vaan was confused.

This was not an altogether uncommon state for him, and Vaan had enough sense to realize this fact. However, this time he was not just confused. This time, Vaan was well and truly perplexed. He could almost feel his brain running around in little circles as he thought through the situation over and over again, and he could have sworn that the faint popping noise he'd heard a few seconds ago was really just the poor thing short-circuiting and dying altogether.

Wiggling his fingers under one overly-long embroidered cuff, Vaan frowned and couldn't help giving voice to his confusion for the fifth time in the last half hour. "Balthier, what does this have to do with pirating again?"

"Quiet," Balthier snapped distractedly. "And stand still, Vaan! How do you expect to be measured properly when you keep fidgeting?"

Vaan bit his tongue to keep from flinging a retort in Balthier's direction. He'd been standing on this silly stool with some equally silly old man rushing around him with scissors and measuring tape and some sort of chalk crayon thing with which he would occasionally mark up the fabric of the shirt currently hanging on Vaan's frame. The boy's arms were beginning to ache from being suspended parallel to the floor for the last interminable stretch of time, and his fingers felt uncomfortably tingly, as if they were on the verge of losing sensation altogether (which Vaan thought they probably were). Vaan cast a longing gaze at his trusty vest lying in a heap in the corner like so much garbage; at least his vest didn't itch like this shirt. His vest also breathed and allowed his arms their full range of motion.

"Balthier, I don't want to wear a shirt. I mean, yours is nice and all, but I like my vest just fine. I don't need all this," Vaan said, flapping his arms to emphasize his last point to the accompanying squawks of the diminutive tailor. The long sleeves flopped comically over the boy's arms and the body of the thing billowed out from Vaan's torso like some sort of landlocked sail.

A few seconds later, Vaan almost tumbled off his stool as Balthier smacked him sharply upside the head. "Behave, you're upsetting one of the best tailors in all of Ivalice," he reprimanded with a stern look on his face. Turning to said upset tailor, the sky pirate's expression quickly transformed into one of sincere repentance. "I apologize for the boy's behavior, Commelius," he simpered, handing a fallen tape measure and blue chalk crayon back to the tailor. "My friend is unaccustomed to such exquisite work as what you are capable of producing. He'll come around in time, of that I am certain." The little man looked as if he was repressing the urge to roll his eyes and instead gave a small indignant huff before indicating to Vaan that he should raise his arms so that they stayed parallel to the ground once again.

Unlike Commelius the tailor, Vaan did not resist the urge to roll his eyes.

To be honest, the fact that he was being subjected to such a ridiculous fitting by such a ridiculous man for something as ridiculous as an embroidered shirt that he would most likely ruin within a week of wearing it was only part of the reason Vaan was confused (not to mention annoyed). The real reason Vaan was confused was because he was being subjected to this fresh concept of torture when Balthier had specifically promised he would be giving him sky pirating lessons. Vaan had assumed, apparently quite presumptuously, that pirating lessons automatically meant a chance to practice flying the _Strahl_. Balthier, however, seemed to have had other ideas.

"The dress makes the pirate, Vaan. Get sloppy in your attire and you become nothing better than a street rat," Balthier had iterated to him as they had walked briskly through the current town's narrow streets, stopping only when they came to the door of the Commelius's shop. Vaan had resisted pointing out that he already was a street rat, and he didn't think any amount of fine attire would change that. Besides, was there a rule somewhere that said he couldn't be both a street rat _and_ a sky pirate? A man couldn't stay in the skies forever and having an occupation to fall back upon in hard times would always be a handy thing.

An hour later, Vaan wasn't able to feel his fingers anymore and he was positive that his arms, shoulders, and back would never feel normal again. They protested vehemently when he moved to carry the perfectly wrapped package that was his new shirt that Balthier was to instruct him how to wear in the next few days, and they nearly dropped off his body altogether in protest when Balthier further burdened them with a sack of shiny red apples for the party's supplies. Upon arriving at the less than respectable inn in which the group had acquired rooms for the next few nights, Vaan collapsed on the sticky wooden floor, not caring that his new shirt was currently squashed under his torso or that his cheek had apparently become stuck to whatever substance was coating the wooden floorboards.

"It gets easier, I promise," Balthier remarked almost airily as he swept in past Vaan, pausing only to haul the bag of apples over his shoulder. Though he didn't see him do so, Vaan heard Balthier's even footsteps ascend the stairs to the landing where all their rooms were located.

All Vaan could manage in response was an ineloquent groan.

#

For possibly the first time ever, Vaan had nothing to say at dinner. Penelo kept glancing at him nervously, probably afraid that he had somehow come down with a serious illness in just the course of one afternoon. Vaan wanted to say something to assure her that he wasn't sick, just exhausted from playing dress-up doll at the tailor's shop all afternoon; however, he found the table top to be pleasantly cool and worn just so, creating a dent that cradled his head nicely and thus decided that it really wasn't worth the effort of stirring himself to words. _He_ knew he was fine and that was all that mattered in the end, really.

Dinner progressed uneventfully for the group. Balthier left the table first, muttering something about getting some quiet time after having to endure all of Vaan's complaints for an entire afternoon, to which Penelo took great amusement. Vaan felt a retort forming on his tongue, but again decided it was too much of an effort to speak and so let the sky pirate have the last word.

The dinner continued quietly, the accompanying sounds of flatware clinking mixed with the occasional raucous bout of laughter from the few other patrons dining there that evening. Vaan's thoughts had long since turned from his dinner to what came after, and that was, preferably, a long hot soak in whatever type of tub this inn had at its disposal, followed by a night's worth of uninterrupted sleep. But first… there had to be something more delicious to finish off his evening meal than whatever lumpy mystery mash the inn had cooked up.

"Hey…" The first word out of Vaan's mouth all evening stuck partially in his throat, making it come out uneven and gravelly. Penelo actually squeaked slightly in surprise when she heard it, to which Vaan simply glared briefly in reply before clearing his throat and proceeding. "Where are the apples?"

"What apples?" Penelo asked, still looking at him as if she was certain he had a cold but was just being too damn stubborn to admit it to anyone.

"The ones Balthier and I just bought today. I remember carrying them back here…" And oh, how he remembered! Just the thought of carrying that sack over his shoulder was enough to send unpleasant spasms racing across Vaan's back and arms.

If he'd been more aware of his surroundings and less lost in thoughts of apples, aching muscles, and sadistic tailors, Vaan might have noticed the glance Basch and Fran shared at his comment. He also may have noticed just how abruptly Basch hustled Her Royal Highness, the Lady Ashe away from the table and out the front door of the inn, despite Ashe's expressed confusion and irritation. Vaan definitely would have noticed Fran offering to help Penelo with the clean up of the dishes, as Penelo expressly invited him to help her with the duty, but amazingly enough he missed that too. In fact, he was so totally and completely unaware of his surroundings that he didn't notice any of these things. As such, Vaan proceeded up the stairs of the inn, his tired mind singly focused on acquiring a few of those gods forsaken apples he'd carried earlier that day. If he was going to suffer for his meal, he was damn well going to get to eat it!

"Balthier!" he shouted when he arrived at the sky pirate's room. "Balthier, what'dya do with the apples?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now go away." It was possible that, had he not heard the sound of something that was clearly an apple being munched upon at that very moment from inside that room, Vaan would have simply accepted Balthier's grouchy need for privacy and moved on with his search. But the fact of the matter was that Vaan _had_ heard Balthier clearly eating what could only be an apple both before and after his antisocial pronouncement.

"I just want one. C'mon, Balthier, just one!" Vaan whined, too tired to try sounding more adult. He sagged against the door, allowing his head to bang slightly painfully against it.

"What do you not understand about the phrase 'go away'?" Vaan could almost hear Balthier's eyes rolling.

"I had to carry those apples all the way back to the inn after your tailor torture – why do _you_ get to hog them?" When Balthier failed to throw a sarcastic retort straight back in his face, a spark of hope that perhaps the sky pirate was reconsidering began to glow in Vaan.

If he hadn't been quite so sore and exhausted, Vaan probably would have pulled himself up into a completely upright position at the sound of feet shuffling over the floor of Balthier's room. As it was, he remained leaned against the door, the worn wood supporting his weight without too much protestation. That is, until Balthier unlatched the door.

What happened next was something that Vaan would have undoubtedly found hysterical had he not been directly involved in the incident. For when Balthier unlatched the door, it was not with the knowledge that the near dead-weight of a Dalmascan adolescent was resting against it. As a result, the door was opened far further than Balthier had planned, and at a far greater speed on top of that. The pirate himself was knocked to the ground by a sharp rap on the forehead and bridge of his nose from the door, while Vaan simply fell as the door opened into the room. In a matter of seconds, the boy found himself in a pile of limbs on the floor instead of his previous (almost) upright position in the hall.

The bigger surprise, however, was undoubtedly finding a very naked Balthier sprawled a few feet from him, rubbing his nose in obvious irritation. On the table against the back wall sat a bowl full of the very apples Vaan had been intent on retrieving.

For the second time that evening, Vaan found himself speechless, though near a thousand questions seemed to race through his brain each one dying to be asked first. The boy's mouth opened and closed a couple of times in a remarkable impression of a fish on land before he managed to form a coherent question.

"So… if the clothes make the man, and you're not wearing any clothes, what does that make you?"

A few moments later, he was back out in the hall, closed door behind him, a lump forming on the back of his head, and a very bruised apple in hand. Vaan never did get an answer to that question.

He did get his apple though. And that was good enough for him… for the moment.


	4. Part IV: Penelo

**Quirks**

_IV. Penelo_

"Vaan, have you seen those pomegranates Fran gave me yesterday?" Penelo called one morning as she was packing up her belongings at the inn in which their party had just spent the night. It had been exceedingly nice to sleep on a proper mattress instead of in a tent with her hips digging into the unforgiving ground every time she shifted positions throughout the night. Sleeping on a mattress now felt almost unreal, and it had taken her hours just to fall asleep: such was the strength of the strangeness. In fact, she'd half thought of sleeping on the floor next to the bed, but the wooden boards were surprisingly cold and drafty and Penelo knew she'd regret it if she didn't take advantage of the luxurious softness for one evening. As such, she'd lost a fair bit of sleep, though she'd woken up warmer and cozier than ever in recent memory. But such comforts were fleeting: they were moving on in only a few hours and Penelo was making a last minute check of the supplies she carried. And that included an unexpected, though incredibly appreciated, gift of five pomegranates from Fran. Ever since that one time on the _Strahl_ when Penelo had asked to try the fruit and found it to her liking, Fran had always saved an extra fruit or two for her. But now it seemed that two of the precious fruits were missing, though Penelo could not for the life of her remember eating them. "I thought I put them in my satchel, but – "

Vaan, who had been putzing around her room for the last half hour and in general being of no help whatsoever (in fact, he was acting much more like a hindrance, so much so that Penelo had half the mind to throw the boy out of her room), straightened just then. A slightly panicked expression crossed his face. "No!" he exclaimed, far too vehemently for Penelo not to want to figure out what she was certain he was hiding from her. "No, I haven't seen your pomegranates and Penelo why don't we go to the market today it seems like we're out of apples!" With that, Vaan grabbed Penelo's arm and marched her purposefully down the hallway of the inn. Penelo barely had time to sort her feet out so they didn't trip over one another in Vaan's haste.

"Sure, Vaan, but why are you acting so strange?" Penelo asked in that slow way one talks to small children and the mentally unstable. She also wondered why Vaan was leading them down the obscure back staircase that incidentally avoided each of the rooms of their travel companions instead of the front one, but she didn't bother voicing that question aloud.

"I'm not acting strange let's just go now okay?" insisted Vaan, pulling Penelo firmly down the rickety old staircase and out the back door into a rather ripe-smelling alleyway.

Penelo coughed and covered her nose until they'd passed the heaps of trash rotting in the midday heat. "Okay…" she agreed, feeling her small gil purse clink comfortably against her leg as she was dragged by Vaan towards the marketplace.

As they made their way through the merchants' stalls and stores, Vaan seemed to find each and every excuse to prolong their excursion. He dragged Penelo into long conversations with people on the streets that soon started to get on her nerves, came up with the strangest excuses to visit each and every shop on the block including the store that only sold specialty false teeth, and haggled with merchants over inconsequential differences in gil until she was ready to wring his neck just to get him to shut up and move on. But the one thing Vaan didn't seem to buy was fruit of any kind. In fact, when Penelo had attempted to purchase a bag of apples since he'd claimed earlier they were out, Vaan had not so accidentally knocked over the stand, sending the shiny red fruits scattering across the dusty, dirty floor boards. When the shopkeeper's broom had failed to connect, Penelo had cuffed him on the back of the head for his incompetence and stormed halfway down the street before he'd caught back up and dragged her into the nearest store.

"Why are you acting so strange?" she finally asked exasperatedly when Vaan insisted on checking the prices of fresh newt eyes. Penelo looked away quickly from the tall jars of the shiny black things; they made her stomach turn unpleasantly, as her imagination insisted on conjuring up the worst possible images of those jars toppling off the shelves and sending their contents flying all over her boots and legs.

Vaan opened one of the jars to sniff the contents and promptly turned green in the face from the odor. "I'm not acting strange," he managed between coughs as his lungs forced up the contaminated air. Though she was standing a few paces away from him, Penelo had no trouble catching a whiff of the strong scent of newt eye preservatives and decided to drag Vaan out of the store before he made the both of them sick to their stomachs.

"Yes you are, now explain!" demanded Penelo once they were out in the sun-warmed, dusty air of the marketplace again. "Why shouldn't we just go back to the inn and ask Balthier or Basch or someone if they've seen my pomegranates?"

"Because… because Balthier's naked!" Vaan said in a rush. "He does this thing, where he steals people's fruit and eats it, but he's naked. It's really… weird. And he's a guy, and you're a girl, and… and…" he trailed off then, his words petering out to silence in the face of his friend's incredulous stare and raised eyebrow.

"That's all? The way you were acting, I expected bounty hunters or an army of Judges to be waiting at the inn!" Penelo scoffed, and watched as Vaan's jaw went noticeably slack. Between the absurdity of the situation and her friend's expression, it took all of Penelo's composure not to fall to the floor from side-splitting, hysterical laughter then and there. She couldn't, however, stop the entirely undignified snort that erupted from her nose and caused more than a few heads to turn and stare at the two teens.

"_That's all_?!" exclaimed Vaan when he was once more able to master the fine art of speech and Penelo's snorts of laughter had died down to a few sporadic coughs. "Nelo, he walks around _naked_! I was just trying to protect your…"

"Protect my what? Not my sanity, that's for sure!"

"Your virtue. I was trying to protect your virtue."

"You know, it's not like I've never seen a naked man before, Vaan." She held back another giggle as her friend gaped at her as if she'd just grown a third arm in the middle of her chest. "What?"

"Who've you seen naked?!"

Penelo smiled broadly. "I'm not telling. And as far as Balthier's habit is concerned," she continued before Vaan could badger her any, "what he does in his own company is his own business. I don't know why you're getting so worked up… you do some equally weird stuff when you don't think anyone is watching, you know."

"Penelo!" Vaan had by this point turned a bright shade of flaming red that had absolutely nothing to do with being out in the sun all morning. "That was _one time_," he whined as Penelo finally burst out in a fit of giggles. "How was I supposed to know it would hurt trying to squirt milk out of my eyes?"


	5. Part V: Ashe

A/N: Hey guys! It wasn't six months! It was only nearly three... Anyways, here's the last installment of Quirks. Turned out a little wordier than I expected it to, but there you have it. Considering that this started off as a complete crack idea, I'm rather pleased with how it turned out. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

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**Quirks**

_V. Ashe_

Sometimes, Ashe had bad days. There were those in the Resistance who would claim that nearly every day was a bad day for the (temporarily) deposed princess; this, however, was not true. Those men never saw her truly bad days. Because on Ashe's bad days (which, thankfully, were few and far between), she would go off by herself and work out her mood in the way came most naturally: beating the crap out of something. Often when she was in one of these moods, she'd come back from the royal stables, knuckles bloody from beating a large bag full of chocobo feed until it burst. Her nurses, frantic from not being able to locate her for the past few hours, would swarm on her like flies to old fruit, and proceed to fuss and click their tongues at her in a disproving manner all the while bandaging her hands and fixing her clothes. As Ashe grew older, she received more and more lectures about her behavior. But when her tutors told her once more that it was undignified for a princess to be caught fighting (even if it was only with a burlap sack), all Ashe would do was roll her eyes and wonder just how those old fogies thought she should work out her mood.

Out of curiosity, she had asked once, and one had suggested having a nervous fit followed by fainting. It took all of Ashe's strength not to imagine him as a bag of chocobo meal.

Never, however, in her life had Ashe turned to drink when she was feeling distinctly upset with the workings of the world. Drink seemed too passive for her taste. Drink also took away what sense she had left, and on top of that, she knew from living with nobody but ex-soldiers for two years that the only stuff strong enough to alleviate her mood smelled like poison, tasted worse, and made her stomach crawl for a whole day after at the smell of anything richer than water.

On top of the taste issue, Ashe was certain that she would look like a complete fool if she were to get rip-roaring drunk. She had no hard proof of this, but the example a certain sky pirate was setting for her at the moment didn't provide her with very much hope.

"Balthier, I think you've had enough to drink," Ashe said firmly, grasping the metal tankard in front of Balthier with the intent of pulling it away from him and emptying it onto the already grimy and disgusting floorboards. The establishment in which the pirate had ensconced himself for the evening was beyond questionable: it was, simply, damn sleazy. In the ten minutes since she'd arrived, Ashe had already had five men attempt to pick her purse, and one, in failing to do so, had simply settled for grabbing her ass. She could see the red hand-shaped mark on the imbecile's face from all the way on the other side of the room. Balthier had witnessed the exchange and laughed uproariously for a few moments before propositioning her himself. Ashe was unsure as to why her rejection of the offer hadn't been accompanied by another slap to the face; she chocked it up to the fact that somehow she had come to recognize the pirate as a friend.

"No, Princess. No I haven't." He may have looked and been drunker than all get out, but Balthier's grip on the dinked tankard was surprisingly firm. With a tug, he wrenched it from Ashe's hands and brought it to his lips for another swallow. A very long swallow. When he slammed the tankard back down to the table, Ashe noted that the volume was considerably smaller than a few moments ago. Balthier obviously noticed this as well, for he promptly caught the eye of the busty bar maid and indicated he would like another one of the same, please. Ashe also caught the eye of the barmaid and nullified the pirate's order with a fierce scowl and a shake of her head.

Turning back to the wayward member of the group, Ashe found herself on the receiving end of a very disapproving glare. Which she returned in kind, of course. "Give me the tankard, Balthier," she tried again, her fingers slipping slightly as they grasped for a strong purchase on the sweating metal.

"Mine. You didn't pay for this, did you? I did. S'mine," Balthier shot back, his night of drinking having less effect on his ability to pronounce words as it did on his overall vocabulary. The pirate once more reclaimed his tankard with a mighty tug that slopped some of the remaining liquid onto his normally pristine cuffs and took another long draught. A growl rumbled in Ashe's throat, low and dangerous. The second his fingers loosened on the tankard, Ashe threw a few coins onto the bar and bodily yanked the delinquent sky pirate off his stool, her fingers digging into his wrist in what was almost certainly a painful manner. He stumbled, colliding with her back before finding his (noticeably unsteady) feet. However, his temporary impairment of gross motor skills didn't stop Ashe from marching Balthier out of bar and down the street.

"Hey, Ashe, you're in hurry," Balthier noted belatedly as he continued to trip over his own feet every third stride or so. "Are you thinking of taking me up on my offer, then?"

Ashe rolled her eyes, gritted her teeth, and prayed to whichever higher power was listening for patience. "No," she responded in a tone that ordinarily brokered no dissent. In his current state, however, Balthier simply snorted in disbelief. Ashe deliberately dragged him faster, and the pirate's legs tangled briefly with each other once again in a truly embarrassing fashion. "I'm just trying to get you back to the inn before you spend all of your money and completely make a fool of yourself all in one night."

"So boooooooring!" Was that whining? Ashe decided after a moment that yes, she had just heard Balthier, the ever-suave and sophisticated, whine like a petulant five-year old. "Fran lets me have more fun… " he continued, and had Ashe bothered to turn around she was almost certain she would have seen him pouting like a five-year old as well. As an afterthought, he added, "Where's Fran?"

"Back at the inn, where you should be. I suspect she's sleeping by now." Ashe could feel the pull of exhaustion creeping in as she walked, her eyes beginning to itch for the sleep she was denying them. All because of one man… one charismatic, enigmatic, very drunk man. Who had yet to offer an explanation for his frankly uncharacteristic and thorough inebriation, as it were.

"But I don't want to go to the inn. I want to go back-"

"We're going back to the inn, Balthier!" Ashe nearly shouted in frustration. "We're going to the inn, even if I have to…" She trailed off there, choosing not to voice the fact that she was desperate enough to walk back to the inn with Balthier slung over her shoulder if need be. He would undoubtedly take it the wrong way.

"Even if you have to what?" Balthier asked, a dangerously seductive note creeping into his tone. Unfortunately for Ashe, drunken Balthier was completely capable of turning even her silences into uncomfortable and uncalled for innuendos. She made the mistake of turning around to glance at the pirate she was still towing back to the inn and found herself on the receiving end of a glance that caused her heart to skip uncomfortably and her face to heat up. His hand, formerly limp and useless, suddenly gripped her wrist in much the same way she was already gripping his and the heat of contact shot up her arm like an arrow. A very warm arrow that made something in her spine tingle pleasantly.

Damn that man.

"Nothing," she shot back hurriedly, turning to face forward again and dragging Balthier a hair faster than was truly necessary. "Just get moving before I demonstrate what two years in the Resistance did for my hand-to-hand combat skills."

Balthier tripped once more from the sudden burst of speed and grumbled as his foot landed awkwardly on the ground. "Pushy, prissy princess..."

Ashe magnanimously decided to ignore the comment, instead choosing to grind her teeth and think of all the laws she could write when she became queen that would make the life of a man in Balthier's line of work infinitely more difficult.

#

As it turned out, the hardest part of the evening was not locating Balthier. Nor had it been prying Balthier away from his drink, though that had certainly been a challenge. Dragging the pirate through the nearly deserted streets of the town they were staying in was actually quite easy, once he'd resigned himself to the fact that Ashe wasn't going to stop dragging him by the wrist until they reached their destination. No, as it turned out, the hardest part of the evening was getting Balthier to go to bed.

"But I shouldn't go to bed yet, Princess," the pirate reasoned, his consonants slurring slightly at the edges from a combination of exhaustion and drunkenness. "If I go to bed now, I'll have a bloody terrible hangover in the morning." Balthier got up from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed (in his own room, of course – Balthier loved his privacy) and made to walk out the door but Ashe stood in his way, hands in fists resting on her hips. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and Balthier, even in his present state, had enough wits to return to his seat on his bed.

"That would be your own damn fault, pirate!" Ashe hissed, too tired and sick of dealing with Balthier's antics to even try to censor her less charitable opinions. "You're not going out again. I want to be on the road again _before_ sunset tomorrow, not after!"

"And we will," he assured her. His words, however, had quite the opposite effect and sent Ashe stomping across the room and back in her frustration.

Where was a bag of chocobo feed when a person really needed it?

Ashe took a seat at the rickety wooden table on the opposite side of the room, the glare she had trained on Balthier never remitting. With narrowed eyes, she watched the pirate take in his surroundings. His gaze stopped on his pack, which lay propped up against the wall next to Ashe's chair. "If you won't let me out of my room," he began in what would have been a reasonable tone had not an edge of snark crept into it, "could you at least get me my water from my pack?" A few moments later, Balthier's water skin sloshed as it collided with the sky pirate's chest; Ashe had veritably thrown it at him without any warning. "Thank you, Your Highness," he managed before downing the contents in two gulps. "Would you mind retrieving my last pomegranate while you're over there as well?" Another glare was tossed his direction a few seconds before the hard fruit came flying at his head. In a surprising feat of agility, Balthier managed to catch the fruit before it made contact with his face. Ashe told herself that she was being no less petulant than Balthier had been earlier by wishing that the pirate's reflexes hadn't been quite so responsive.

Ashe was about to find a trinket of some sort in the sky pirate's pack with which to amuse herself (she had long since resolved not to leave the room until she was certain Balthier was asleep and not likely to wander back out to the bars) when she realized something. Something that was simultaneously fascinating and disturbing.

Balthier wasn't eating his pomegranate. Not yet, at any rate. Instead, Balthier was undressing. His vest was already in a sloppily folded pile next to him on the bed, and he was currently working on the cuffs and collar of his shirt. Ashe had no doubt it would soon follow the vest, and she was ashamed to find that she was equal parts shocked by this development and eager for it to proceed.

"What… What are you doing, Balthier?" she asked slowly, her eyes inexorably drawn to his fingers that were ineptly trying to manipulate the buttons with which they usually had no problem. "Why are you undressing?"

"Because I'm about to eat a pomegranate." The way he said it made it seem like the most obvious thing in the world. Ashe quickly ran over the logic in her head and found the two actions didn't seem at all connected.

"Elaborate, pirate," she ordered. "And leave your clothes on whilst you do."

Balthier looked up momentarily from the small buttons of his cuffs for the express purpose of rolling his eyes at Ashe. He quickly returned to his task, and Ashe felt her face flush all the way from her cheeks to the tips of her ears at his blatant disregard. The fact that his shirt was moments away from being removed had nothing to do with her blush at all.

"Honestly, Ashe, why would I wear clothes while eating a pomegranate? Do you know how messy they are? I'd stain my shirt irreparably. Aha!" he exclaimed, his alcohol-inhibited fingers finally managing to undo the last of the buttons. The shirt joined the vest in the pile a second later.

"You didn't seem terribly worried about the state of your clothes before!" Ashe exclaimed, fighting both the urge to scrub herself clean at just the thought of the counters and floors of that bar and the urge to stare at the ridiculously self-assured half-naked man in front of her. "Balthier! Put your shirt back on!"

"I can't very well walk into a bar without any attire, can I?" he reasoned, completely disregarding her demands as he began to work on his belt. Ashe had always scoffed at its complexity in the past, but at the moment she was quite thankful that it posed such a challenge in his drunken state. "But when I'm in my room, what does it matter whether I have clothes on or not?"

_Damn him_, she thought, her face turning a darker shade of red by the moment. The saddest thing about this whole shenanigan was that Balthier's drunken reasoning actually was making some sense, though Ashe wasn't sure if it was because he was actually speaking sense or if it was because she just wanted to see him without his shirt on more often. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, feeling a familiar tired pressure building behind her eyes. What she should really do, she realized, was leave the room and figure out some way of locking the door from the outside. Perhaps she should even bring the pomegranate with her.

A series of light metallic clinks signaled the successful removal of Balthier's belt. And suddenly not only was the sky pirate belt-less, but his pants too were half-way down his legs, the leather bunching at his knees to reveal a non-descript yet clean pair of cotton undershorts. Before he could progress any further, Ashe stood up and walked briskly out of the room, chair under her arm and face nearly as red as Basch's vest. "Eat your stupid pomegranate and then get to bed!" she yelled over her shoulder at the bemused pirate before slamming the door. She quickly propped the chair under the door handle so that, had he been so inclined, Balthier would not have been able to leave his room without an incredibly concerted effort. Satisfied that her work there was done, Ashe made her way back to the room she was sharing with Penelo.

Sleep eluded her for quite a while, however, and when Ashe did finally manage to fall into a deep sleep, her dreams were plagued by fruit and half-naked men. She didn't need a doctor to tell her why that was.

#

Ashe was late to join the rest of the party for breakfast, though not as late as Balthier, who was completely absent. The pirate was still locked in his room, undoubtedly sleeping off his night of drink. Upon Vaan's request, Ashe gave everyone a brief version of her adventure the night before, glossing over the finer details that Balthier had basically undressed before her and hadn't given a damn. She completely disregarded the fact that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about the incident all evening and had only recently stopped walking around looking like a ripe tomato with legs. Vaan had laughed uproariously at the thought of Ashe dragging Balthier all the way back to inn, though Ashe assured the boy there was nothing hilarious or even remotely fun about it.

As Ashe went back to eating her porridge, however, she missed the shrewd gleam in Fran's eye. Nonchalantly, Fran pulled out a pomegranate from her pack, claiming that breakfast really wasn't the same without one. Before the viera's nails had even cracked the skin of the fruit, Ashe had excused herself from the table, her face bright red once more. Basch watched Ashe as she hurriedly made her way back up to her room before shooting Fran a knowing look. The viera returned it in kind. A second later, Basch fon Rosenburg was thundering back upstairs as well, Balthier's name nearly a curse on his lips. Vaan and Penelo laughed a bit before turning back to their breakfasts.

Meanwhile, Fran set about to enjoying her pomegranate.


End file.
